I Know
by Gaow
Summary: NOTE: I don't own Avengers. Nope nope nope. First time writing Superhusbands ;P I also suck at summaries so... NOT edited.
1. Part I: I Know

Part 1

Tony Stark let out a small sigh as his eyes landed on an ever so familiar figure standing outside his living room. His arms were crossed and he looked out of place on the flat surface of STARK tower. Tony scolded himself as he got up with a small grunt – he should've known _he_would come, and part of him did, had felt it in a pit of his stomach.

The billionaire slowly made his way to the stairs, and he slowed his pace as he stepped out into the cool night, only in a pair of pants and a wife beater, a bottle of water in hand. It was something he had started, hoping he would be able to quit drinking. Okay, so it had been Pepper's idea. He stopped his death march (that's what it felt like, at least) when he was a few feet from the first Avenger.

"Why'd you come here, Capt?" His question was light, softer than he had intended. At his words, Steve Rogers bristled, unfolding his arms and shoving his hands into his pockets rather violently. If you listened closely, you might've heard the small ripping sound of fabric as the pockets tore open slightly with the force.

"I – uh – I came to see you." Steve licked his lips. They were soft. Soft and wanting – needing. "I wanted to talk."

Tony sighed, shifting his weight onto his right side. "I thought we went over this."

"I know but – "

"You know? So what don't you seem to understand? This," he waved his free hand between the two of them. "Whatever the _hell_we had or didn't have – is _over,_Rogers."

Oh, that stung.

Ever since they had gotten together – was that even what they had done? – Tony had called him _Steve_when they were alone, sometime even Cap, but it was usually Steve.

"I know Tony – I just. _Damn it."_He ran a hand through his hair, clenching his teeth as he placed his hand back into his pocket. "I just want to know if the emotions you portrayed were real or not." Steve's hands gripped his thighs as he resisted the urge to raise his voice. He didn't want to gain anyone's unwanted attention. He was sure Pepper was probably inside.

Stark snorted, choking back fake laughter. "_What_emotions? Of course they were fake, Rogers." His lips twitched when the other Avenger flinched.

"You love her then." It was a statement that burned the inside of Steve's mouth. He grit his teeth.

"I think it's time you leave." Tony's voice was tight, leaving no room for arguments. He turned on his heels, beginning to walk away. He stopped for a moment. "You know the way out."

"You can pretend I don't exist," Tony's steady stride faltered as Steve continued. "But you'll see my face every _damn_time you kiss."

Tony grit his teeth before steadying his pace once more. He stormed straight through his living room, down the hall, and right into his bedroom where he slammed the door shut. His back hit the wood, and he let his head hang low. His took in jagged breaths, body shaking with emotions.

"I don't need you to fucking tell me that," he murmured into the dark room. Tony slid down the door, his head falling into his hands. "I already know."


	2. Part II: Thinking Of You

Part 2

_Thinking of you, I'm thinking of you._

_All I can do is just think about you._

_Thinking of you, I'm thinking of you._

_Whenever I'm blue, I'm thinking of you._

Steve slammed his glass down on the table, shaking his head slightly as the cheesy music filled his ears. A bitter chuckle left his lips, and he squeezed his eyes tight. Most of the time, he would listen to the first line and just shut off the radio in his little apartment with a scoff. Music now days were worse than shit. Why people listened to that garbage was beyond him. Then again –

_"You're just old, Capsicle," Tony said, peering over his latest robot's (what he assumed) shoulder. He snickered when Steve scoffed, raising an eyebrow._

He flinched at the memory.

_No matter how I try,_

_I don't find a reason why._

_Believe me, it's not a lie._

_I always have you on my mind._

That was right. Most of the time, he would turn it off. And most of the time he wouldn't try to get drunk as hell.

But tonight was different.

It wasn't everyday you got rejected by a playboy billionaire who had captured your heart with one little kiss.

_No matter what I see._

_Guess where I wanna be?_

_Love is the answer I will find._

Steve snorted as he poured himself another drink. _A kiss._A simple, accidental kiss that had led to a secretive relationship, which, in turn, had led to sex.

And then – nothing. Nothing at all.

_Thinking of you, I'm thinking of you._

_All I can do is just think about you._

_Thinking of you, I'm thinking of you._

_Whenever I'm blue, I'm thinking of you._

_Thinking of you._

As if the past six months hadn't happened, Tony had left him.

That was about two months ago.

It all made sense to his slightly buzzed mind.

_No matter where I go,_

_This is the only show._

_I'd like to be your girl,_

_Come on and take my heart._

Stark just wanted to fuck his brains out, and then leave him in a pit of lust and desperation. And damn did he do it right. Steve felt so lost without the billionaire whom he had become (rather unhealthily) reliant on, and having just faced the man didn't help him at all.

_No matter where you are,_

_Baby, I can't be far._

_'Cause I'll be with you all the time._

Tonight, facing the man – dare he say it? – _loved_with all his heart, had confirmed his suspicions. Stark was bored, and needed something fun to do. Steve had been the next closest thing to it, and the man had striked, taken Steve down, and had enjoyed it.

_Thinking of you,_

_Think about you all the time._

At least, that's what Steve tried to tell himself.

But he knew the truth.

Tony was probably lying to him. Either that, or Steve had his head so far up his ass that he was imagining things.

Steve shrugged slightly.

"That could be it."

Great. Now he was talking to himself.

_This feeling deep inside,_

_When you're right by my side._

_I'll always be with you._

_Believe me, this is true._

With a sigh, he poured himself another drink.

And another.

And another.

And another.

_Jesus,_he was starting to act like a former alcoholic who had just found the jackpot of alcohol. He downed another drink, enjoying the burning sensation in the back of his throat. It warmed his center, and seemed to bring out memories he had thought he had buried months ago.

_"STEVE!" The shout was so loud it made his world spin, and he groaned, smashing the pillow on his head._

_"Go away, Stark," he grumbled. Just talking hurt. Listening to the billionaire parade angrily around the room hurt more._

_He let out a groan when the man pulled his only warmth – a blanket covering his shirtless body – and snatched his pillow away._

_Steve curled into a ball, and his hands covered his face from the blinding light. He was reminded of why he tried to never get drunk. Usually he only drank a couple of drinks – but playing a drinking game with Thor had seemed fun, and, well, the results were a hung over Steve, who had lost._

_He heard Tony chuckle, which in turn turned into a full blown laugh._

_"You're hung over!"_

Steve slumped in his seat.

Maybe, just maybe he would wake up in the morning with a chuckling Tony and a bad headache.

He nearly fell out of his chair when his cellular phone vibrated in his pocket. With stumbling fingers his gripped the rectangle, nearly dropping it in his drink as he tried to read what it said.

_Whenever we're apart,_

_You're deep within my heart._

_'Cause you'll be with me all the time._

It was a text – that's what Agent Hill had called it anyways. That's what he thought it was anyways. Maybe he was just going insane, because when he squeezed his eyes nearly closed, there was nothing on the screen. He was kind of hoping it would be Tony.

He let out a small, distraught noise.

_Thinking of you, I'm thinking of you._

_All I can do is just think about you._

_Thinking of you, I'm thinking of you._

_Whenever I'm blue, I'm thinking of you._

"Damn it Steve, you're going crazy."

The first Avenger grabbed the nearly empty bottle of whiskey. His shaky hands knocked it over, and he cursed, quickly picking it up. His blurry vision didn't really help him. At least the alcohol was doing its job.

"Screw this."

He downed the bottle in three large gulps.

_Stark snorted, choking back fake laughter. "_What_emotions? Of course they were fake, Rogers." His lips twitched when the other Avenger flinched._

"Shut up," Steve whimpered, clenching his teeth and his eyes at the same time.

_"I think it's time you leave." Tony's voice was tight, leaving no room for arguments. He turned on his heels, beginning to walk away. He stopped for a moment. "You know the way out."_

"SHUT UP!"

He jumped up, throwing the empty glass at his kitchen sink.

_No matter where I go,_

_This is the only show._

_I'd like to be your boy,_

_Come on and take my heart._

Steve's shoulders moved up and down with his heavy breathing. His face was red, his hair was disheveled, and his eyes were both wide and wild.

_No matter where you are,_

_Baby, I can't be far._

_'Cause I'll be with you all the time._

"Just shut up."

His eyes drifted to the mess he had made, and then to the counter before him. He furrowed his eyebrows as he took in the objects that littered it.

Pills.

Three bottles of _empty_alcohol.

And a plate of half eaten lasagna that had been overcooked.

His eyes drifted back to the pills.

In his alcoholic induced mind, they didn't seem like a bad idea.

Maybe if he took the entire bottle, he'd forget everything.

_Thinking of you, I'm thinking of you._

_All I can do is just think about you._

_Thinking of you, I'm thinking of you._

_Whenever I'm blue, I'm thinking of you._

A shaky hand grabbed the bottle, and he unscrewed it, staring at its contents.

His eyes drifted to the cell phone he had placed on the counter. He grabbed it, pressing the third button and pressing the call button.

_Ring…_

_Ring…_

_Ring…_

It was just his luck.

Tony wasn't going to answer.

- _Tony Stark is not available to come to the phone right now. Please leave a message at the tone._

Steve took in a sharp breath.

Why had he even called him? He hadn't planned anything that he was going to say.

"Hey Tony, I just – sorry to bother you – I just – I hope you have a great life with Pepper. I promise I won't bother you anymore."

He choked out a small sob, quickly ending the call.

He looked back at the bottle of pills in his hand.

He poured himself a handful, admiring the sight of the tiny white pills in his hand.

Steve could probably take three at a time. So, going on that hunch, he brought three of them to his dry lips.

"Ready or not, here I go."


	3. Part III: The News

Part 3

When Tony woke up the next morning his face was sticky with guilty tears and his eyes were red, and he could feel just how puffy they were.

That was why the first thing he did when he sat up from his awkward sleeping position was head to the shower. And he groaned all the way there, forcing his stiff muscles to work despite how much they protested. Once he turned on the water, he had lost track of time, but from what he assumed, he spent at least an hour in the steamy heaven until he was forced out by the soothing voice of JARVIS.

Although the soothing voice (informing him of one Natasha Romanof riding the elevator to his living room) did nothing to sooth his mild anger for being ripped out of his little heaven. So, rushing, he placed a white towel around his waist, and ran a hand through his wet locks before stepping in the living room. Placing a hand on his hip, he stared at the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent whom in turn stared back at him, taking in the sight of the dripping wet billionaire with a scowl on his face.

"What do you want Agent?" Her fingers twitched at the tone of his voice, and she brought her piercing dark eyes to his, scowling slightly. Her red locks had grown longer since they last met, which so happened to be about a month ago, when the Avengers Initiative had gotten together for a party. It was a monthly thing of theirs, and they all showed up whether they liked it or not. "Unless you're here to tell me someone died or that the world's in trouble, I want you to leave so I can go back to my shower."

Her face changed, the scowl dropping, replaced by an unreadable expression. Her eyes were different though – filled with surprise and slight accusation. He almost smirked. He was used to being accused of many things, after all.

"You haven't heard?" Natasha asked, her face finally settling on a distressed tone. "I thought Hill called you."

Tony felt the almost-smirk fall. "Heard what? Why are you here?"

"I came to check up on you because you weren't at the hospital."

Tony groaned, "God, I hate hospitals. Maybe that's why I didn't show up to your special little physicals."

Natasha pursed her lips. "It's not a physical this time Stark. Cap's in the hospital."

Tony let out a barking laugh, "Yeah right! Cap's probably fine."

"No, Stark. He's not." She growled, tapping her foot on the floor. "He's in the hospital for attempted suicide. He's in a coma right now. The doctors don't know if he'll make it."

He choked on a second wave of laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. Drops of water flew through the air from the motion, landing on the floor. "You're lying. You have to be."

Natasha gave him an almost pitying gaze. "I'm sorry Tony, I wish I was."

Tony froze.

Quite literally.

His smile fell, his muscles tightened up, and he stopped breathing for a moment. The world seemed to move around him in slow motion, and his face seemed to contort into a ridiculous mask of horror and humor.

It's funny how, when one was informed that someone was dying, it changed the person being told in a second.

And as Natasha Romanoff witnessed it first hand, to a colleague and friend, she knew that the image of a devastated Tony Stark would forever be seared into her mind.


	4. Part IV: The Darkness

Part 4

Steve Rogers didn't know what was going on.

Everything was black, and peaceful. Yet – in some bizarre way – it was cold. He couldn't remember what had happened before this enveloping darkness that surrounded him, and most of him didn't _want_to remember. Something inside of him told him not to, and every time he nearly grasped something from the back of his mind, it would slip away from him and leave him with a pounding headache that made him want to claw his eyes out.

So he just sat there.

Alone.

In the darkness – filled with peace as he closed his eyes and swayed back and forth to a tuneless song that filled the air. It reminded him of when he was young, and he liked that. It made him feel at peace, and at home, and it made him want to cry his eyes out while laughing at the same time.

He decided to do neither. Instead, he focused on the lifting music as his eyes fluttered closed. He felt like he was floating. Floating away in the distance. Floating on the notes of the song – not that it was possible. But somehow, in this darkness, it was.

He was swaying back and forth in mid air. Like a feather or a leaf in the wind. No matter how ridiculous that sounded to Steve – that was the only comparison he could think of. And it made sense to him. It was like being in a cradle, and he could see himself being rocked back and forth by his mother.

His mother was beautiful. With her hair pulled back in a messy bun.

The image disappeared from behind his eyes, and he frowned. He enjoyed looking at his mother. He missed her. His eyes shot open as he stared into the darkness. It was beginning to look less comforting.

And then, just as he was contemplating the idea, he fell. Dropped, was probably a better word to use.

A scream ripped from his throat. A scream so loud it made the darkness _ripple._Kind of like when you poke jello – a giant thing of jello that was being poked rapidly. (Man, he was just on a role of weird comparisons, wasn't he?)

Then – everything disappeared.

It was replaced by a bright light and then - and then he was little again.

A young boy.

He couldn't really see himself, but he just knew. It was sort of like a dream. A memory that he was sure he had curried in the back of his mind.

_Steve sniffled, clear snot running from his nose. It dribbled down to his lips, and he wiped at it furiously with the back of his hand. He was weak – and the boys in front of him made sure he knew that. The boy – his bully – snickered at him, sticking his tongue out at the fallen, sniveling boy._

_His bully – had his name been Chris? Or was it James? He couldn't remember anymore – raised his fist, and Steve flinched. He barely felt the punch. Tears were in his eyes as he slammed his tiny fists against the bully's head. They bounced off, doing no damage to the boy._

Steve, both his younger self and his older self (it was complicated, it was as if he were watching the scene and he was in the scene) felt his throat tighten up. It never got easier when he remembered these memories. It frightened him sometimes to see just how vulnerable he was.

He was sucked out of the scene and thrust into another – this one when he was about twelve.

_ His mother was humming quietly, her hips swaying to the song. Her hair was in that messy bun she loved so much. He sat at the kitchen table, watching her as she stirred the spoon around the pot. She was making gravy – he could smell it, and it made his tummy growl in hunger._

_He felt his cheeks burn as his mother laughed, shaking her head. Her warm eyes landed on him, and she waved him over._

_"Here," she whispered, handing him a piece of candy when he was close enough to her. "It'll be out little secret, Steve." She gave him a wink, and he grinned at her, unwrapping the candy and popping it into his mouth._

_The little ball rolled around in his mouth, teasing his tongue with the sugary sweet taste of strawberry._

_"I love you mom."_

Steve was sucked away once more – this time with much more force. He felt like he was being sucked up into a vacuum. Colors swirled around him. Faces. They blended together. Faces from his past, and his present. They blended into colors that burned his eyes.

It was frightening, and he felt his breath hitch in his throat.

He needed a familiar face.

He needed one now.

He screamed. Or tried to, at least. It didn't come out, no matter how large he opened his mouth. He tried screaming once more, his lips curling around the words.

_"Help me!"_


	5. Part V: Pointing Fingers

Part 5

Phil Coulson was the first to reach the hospital. Funny how things turn out. Steve had been the first one at Phil's bedside when the Avengers had learned that he was alive, and now Phil was the first to be staring at the large window, into the ICU when the dying man lay. He would've thought the man dead if it weren't for the heart monitor next to the bed.

Despite Nick Fury's orders to go fetch the others, he had politely declined, and decided to sit next to the window, his hands placed gently in his lap.

He didn't leave his spot, not even when Maria Hill came to inform him that Bruce Banner – whom was across the world at the time – was on his way in a private jet that was due to arrive in six hours. Courtesy of Clint, whom had been elected to go get the man.

Nor did Phil move when a worried Thor burst into the hallway, his face contorted in worry. He was dressed in Midgardian clothes, something that made him look all the more terrifying – with his eyebrows knit together, his lips drawn tight, and his fists clenched at his side.

It wasn't often the God came, and it was a mild surprise to both Hill and Coulson to see him in the hall of the hospital. Thor, taking one look at his friend – one of his best – slumped down in one of the seats, a couch in the lone hall, shoulders crumpling in on themselves as he looked at the sleeping man.

"Is Steve dead?" It was the first words the God spoke. It was a soft whisper that resonated throughout the chillingly quiet hall, and Phil barely caught the words, yet it still had the same impact – an impact that would've made the Agent flinch if he wasn't so accustomed to death in the first place.

"No." Phil said, shaking his head. His eyebrows knit together as he stared at the heart monitor, watching it move with every fiber in his body. "He's not dead. Not yet anyways."

Thor frowned, and sat back, rubbing his hands together.

They sat like that, in dead silence, until Clint and Bruce Banner arrived.

And they waited.

And waited.

And waited, for approximately fifteen hours after the incident until a stone faced Natasha and shell shocked Tony arrived.

Tony was pacing back and forth in front of the window within ten minutes of his arrival, his nerves wound up so tight that the slightest thing would've set him off. Clint was leaning against a wall, his hand rested on Bruce's tense shoulders, and Natasha was seated next to Thor, her foot tapping the floor nervously. They all hated hospitals and their hatred seemed to grow with every second that went by, along with their nervousness.

The silence didn't last long.

It was broken by Tony, who slammed his fist against the wall in pure rage. He was done being quiet. He turned his burning eyes to Phil, almost glaring. His shoulders were tense, and he tried to call his beating heart.

"Who found him? How did this happen?" He asked, his fingers slowly curling by his sides. His mind was reeling as he thought over what could've happened. He thought they – as in all the Avengers – were all under sharp eyes. How could they have let this happen, anyways? Wasn't it _their_job to make sure none of them did anything too drastic? If he remembered correctly, when _he_had tried to end his life (which had been quite a while ago), a group of annoying Agents – aka Clint, Natasha, and Phil – had barged into his home and suggested they all go clubbing.

"I found him," Phil murmured, looking at Tony before looking back at the sleeping man. "He swallowed three bottles of pills – and downed them with alcohol. He was on his fourth when he passed out and fell to the floor." He rubbed a hand across his face. He was tired. He hadn't slept since yesterday, and having to speak at all was beginning to seem like a burden.

Tony's glare hardened and he stalked towards the man, his finger pointed accusingly at Phil's chest. "How could you let this happen?"

The silence that followed those words were heavy – like cement that weighed down on all of them. It took a moment for the agent to respond. Phil stood slowly, glaring back at the billionaire. He was startled, and rather shocked. He would've expected some accusation, definitely, but not with such ferocity, and not with so much hatred packed behind those words.

It was no secret about what Tony and Steve had shared, and all of them knew that.

Maybe that was why Phil was shocked.

The words slipped past his lips before he could actually think things over.

"This is your fault, Stark!"

"What did you say!?" Tony took three giant steps toward the Agent, grabbing hold of his shirt collar. The white fabric crumpled beneath his shaking hand.

The two glared at one another, Tony gripping Phil's collar, and Phil looking almost at ease. Their breathing was slightly heavily as they looked into one another's eyes, bright fires clashing with one another.

"Go ahead, do it," Phil egged on. "Punch me."

It was a surprise to see the normally cool Phil Coulson act so rashly. None of them moved, many holding their breath. Bruce was the one to jump up the moment he saw Tony's hand twitch into action. He stepped towards them tentatively, trying to smile. It ended up in a grimace, one that didn't really quite help the situation.

"Calm down you guys. This is not the place, or time, to be talking about this. This is a hospital. Now, both of you stop pointing fingers at each other like we're children and wait in your seats like good little boys until the doctor comes to –"

The sound was chilling.

To the bones.

The loud, erratic beeping of the monitor vibrated through the glass, sending all their heads swiveling.

_No…_

It couldn't be…

But it was.

Steve's heart monitor was beeping loudly, before it flat lined.

Phil shoved Tony away from him, "Somebody get the doctor! _Hurry!_"

But there was no need to call for the doctor, for he was already there, a small group of nurses with him. They shoved past the Avengers, the doctor shouting out orders.

_"Nancy, get the crash cart!"_

Phil rushed towards the doors. His heart gave a horrible squeeze as he heard the next words that were shouted in the room.

_"We're losing him! Doctor Flynn, WE'RE LOSING HIM!" _


	6. Part VI: Heaven?

Part 6

Steve crawled from out of the cold water, struggling to move. His arms gave way beneath him, and he coughed up water, his eyes watering. He lay on the beach sand, the waves lapping at his bare feet as he rolled over onto his back, gasping for breath.

_Hey Cap._

The voice was echoing around him, soothingly. He furrowed his brows in concentration.

Why couldn't he hear – or understand – the words being spoken?

The question left his mind in an instant as he looked up at the sky.

Blue, blue, blue.

Just so blue.

And he could clouds. White and fluffy clouds that looked like pillows.

His hand reached up, and he felt like if he stretched a little further he could feel them. Feel the soft fluffiness under his coarse and tired fingers.

His eyes danced across the sky. The sun was in the distance, showering him with bright light that left him both warm and cold.

Warm and cold.

Hot and chilly.

Hot and cool.

He couldn't decide.

He moved his head to the side, his cheek burying into the dirt. It almost made him lose his eyes. They snapped open when he was bombarded with more questions.

Where was he?

Was he dead?

Probably.

So this was heaven, he mused. A beautiful beach in the middle of nowhere. With the population of zero plus Steve.

Maybe this was his own personal heaven?

Maybe.

But he had always hoped for a more…populated heaven. Maybe one with his mother, and father – his family – one where they could all be together once and for all. Or maybe one with Bucky and Peggy.

He furrowed his brows.

Who was Peggy?

Who was Bucky?

Why couldn't he remember.

"Go away," he groaned, lifting his head from the sand. He wanted no more questions. Just peace and quiet. On the other hand, his mind had other things planned.

Why was he dead anyways?

He couldn't remember.

He felt himself shudder slightly as he sat up.

He felt cold.

The heat was gone now.

He was just left with cold, cold, cold.

He felt odd – almost like he didn't belong here.

His eyes stared out into the water. He was searching for something that made the atmosphere in his personal heaven change. It took him a moment for him to find. But there it was – the darkness – in the middle of the ocean.

It inked towards him, swirling in the water like a black octopus or – or a squid. It twisted and turned, and stretched out till it was inches away from his feet.

He was frozen in his spot as he stared at the darkness.

_We miss you Cap. Things aren't the same around here without you._

Steve leaned forward, his fingers brushing the waters.

The black tentacles wrapped around his fingers. They were gentle. Almost like someone's hand. He squeezed back, gripping the blackness tightly.

Peace.

That's the only thing he felt as he was dragged back into that darkness. But it seemed, that wasn't the case. Instead of reaching that darkness he had once been in – the darkness that had been his home for only god knows how long – he was surrounded by bright light.

It burned his eyes, and he squeezed his eyes shut before opening them once more.

Lights.

Lots of them.

Lots of bright, bright lights that burned his eyes.

And – and a white ceiling.

He heard a chair clatter to the floor, and he slowly moved his head. It was painful to move, and he sucked in a breath to try and ease the pain. It numbed to a dull throb, leaving his with a fastly beating heart and a foul flavor in his mouth. It reminded him of blood – no, no. It wasn't blood. It was – it was fear.

"_You're awake."_

He nodded his head after a moment, finally comprehending what was said. The speaker had such a soothing voice – it made his heart calm down to its normal pace. Swallowing, he cleared his dry throat, and opened his mouth to speak.

**A/N:** Who do you think spoke to Steve?

_**Teaser: **_

_This had become a routine of his._

_Come to the hospital, wait impatiently in the elevator, walk towards the hospital room where one Steve Rogers slept, and sit there for hours, talking to him as if the superhero could hear him._

"_Hey Cap…" He paused, eyes drifting down to the apple. He placed it gently in his lap, his left thumb rubbed the indents he had made with his nails. "I hope you wake up soon. We miss you Steve. Things just aren't the same without you."_

_Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw it again._

_Saw Steve's finger twitch._


	7. Part VII: Awake

Part 7

Phil Coulson ran a hand through his hair, sitting down in the chair next to the hospital bed. He didn't even have to pull the chair up towards the bed anymore because the nurses already had it in place for him. His placed his water on the ground next to him, placing his apple in his lap.

This had become a routine of his.

Come to the hospital, wait impatiently in the elevator, walk towards the hospital room where one Steve Rogers slept, and sit there for hours, talking to him as if the superhero could hear him.

It had been three weeks since the incident – the one where Steve had flat lined. He shuddered at the thought. It had been truly terrifying. And it had shut all of them up for days. Even Tony had shut up and stayed quiet (quite a shocker, especially after the two had been in a heated argument moments before). Three weeks since Steve was in a comma. And three weeks since he had been moved from the ICU.

Phil tossed the apple he had brought with him into the air, throwing it between his hands. He cleared his throat, eyes moving to the sleeping man's face. The kid from Brooklyn looked almost at peace. He hadn't looked this peaceful since his little relationship with Tony.

"Hey Cap," Phil smiled. "Looks like I'm watching you. Again." He laughed, shaking his head at the irony. This was the second time in his lips he got to say something like that. "Sorry for that, by the way. It makes me seem like one of those creepy fan boys." Not that he was denying it.

He watched the man for a moment, hoping for a reaction. Maybe a twitch of the lips, or a fluttering of the eyes. He didn't care. He just wanted to see _something. _Anything. For a moment, he stared, unblinking as his eyes shifted from his hands to his face. He even thought he saw his hands twitch, but upon closer look, he realized it had just been a simple trick his mind had played on him – a result of his lack of sleep.

Phil rubbed his hand across his face. His other hand tightened around the apple he held.

"Hey Cap…" He paused, eyes drifting down to the apple. He placed it gently in his lap, his left thumb rubbed the indents he had made with his nails. "I hope you wake up soon. We miss you Steve. Things just aren't the same without you."

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw it again.

Saw Steve's finger twitch.

He held his breath, waiting for it to happen again. And it did, this time two of his fingers twitch. It was followed by the fluttering of Steve's eyelids.

Phil stood up so fast, his apple clattered to the floor with a small thud.

Steve blinked, and rolled his head to the side, sucking in an audible breath.

"You're awake." Phil said, careful to keep his voice quiet.

Steve nodded his head after a moment before he opened his mouth, letting out a small noise. "Water – please." He whispered, rubbing his hand across his throat.

"Right!" Phil grinned, his face glowing as he clamored to get him a glass of water. He nearly knocked over his water bottle as he grabbed for it, unscrewing the cap quickly before handing it to the now awake Avenger.

"Thank you," Steve whispered after he had nearly downed the entire thing. His throat was no longer dry, and he cleared his throat.

"Steve," Phil said, grin widening into a full blown smile. "It's good to have you awake. You scared us for a while there." He paused, chuckling slightly. "Wait till the others hear about this!"

"Is that my name?" He asked, frowning. Phil felt his smile slowly melt away. "I'm sorry sir, but do I – do I _know _you?"


End file.
